


The Best Deceptions

by iridescentglow



Category: The OC
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-15
Updated: 2004-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentglow/pseuds/iridescentglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth, Ryan and Summer each head home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Deceptions

Seth arrived home from Tahiti feeling calm and centred. An aging, hippy-ish sailor that he'd met on Huahine had given him a copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ , pressing the dog-eared book reverently into his hands and telling him it would all be _ohh-kaaay_. Seth had read the book a couple of years previously with keen indifference, but floating in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, sunshine spiking around the book's edges as he read, he decided it was all very Deep and Meaningful and _actually_ , his whole setting was a fantastic metaphor for life.

 

It took Ryan three days to get back to Newport from Chino. Three days from Theresa's final hoarse scream and the soft thump of his duffel bag landing on the sidewalk, spilling clothes into the street. (Theresa loved her _drama_ : Her self-righteous anger burned up all her own guilt in their saga.) He had enough money for a ticket to Austin, but he got off the bus for cigarettes in Pasadena and never got back on. He hitchhiked some -- almost rode all the way to Vegas with a pretty blonde, but her big eyes and nervous laughter reminded him too much of Marissa, so he had her dump him at Barstow. Mostly, he walked: a lazy, meandering amble along the roadside; smoking and thinking and realising what a shitty metaphor for life this was.

 

Summer found her way to the Cohens' house on the last weekend before school started. She was _not_ in Tijuana, because she had no one to drive her. (Holly had offered, but Summer was still mad at her . . . she couldn't entirely figure out _why_ , but it was probably the principle of the thing, or something. Her father always told her to stick to her principles, and she had so few that she thought it was a good idea to latch onto those that she had pretty hard. Holly was kind of a drag these days, anyway. Too much coke or crystal meth or _whatever_.) She _was_ , however, in the middle of a date. Or _had_ been, until he'd told her she was "real pretty" and she'd thrown a drink in his face. (What did they teach guys in business school? Because it sure wasn't _charisma_.) Somehow she had decided, whilst walking 10 blocks in 4-inch spike heels, that this was all Cohen's fault. Or Chino's. Maybe both. (Summer didn't really care about metaphors. But she knew that her feet hurt.)

*

Seth lay on his bed and pretended he was still floating in the middle of the ocean. He tried to find a salty tang of sea air beneath air freshener and fabric softener; struggled to transform footsteps and movement outside his window into the breezy slaps of waves against the bow of the boat. His bedroom felt small and enclosed; Death Cab ( _Transatlanticism_ , of course) sounded differently through his stereo speakers than played softly on his iPod; and someone was _yelling_ really close by.

 

Ryan thought he must have passed out for a while. Either way, he was sprawled on the ground, cheek pressed against concrete, and aware that he was entering the spacey twilight between drunkenness and hangover. He rolled over, a glimpse of dazzling poolhouse slanting through his vision, and realised he must be home. "No place like it," he muttered, and passed out again.

 

Summer dug her heel into Ryan's chest. Not _hard_ \-- that would be _mean_. "Hey!" she said loudly. "Chino!" She waited, and jabbed a little harder with her shoe. _No response_. It was less satisfying to tell someone how completely they ruined your life while they were unconscious. She was contemplating dragging him over to the pool when a window opened above and a shaggy mop of hair appeared.

**Author's Note:**

> _I heard about your trip  
>  I heard about your souvenirs  
> I heard about the cool breeze, in the cool nights,   
> and the cool guys that you spent them with  
> Well I guess I should have heard of them from you  
> ...  
> So kiss me hard  
> 'cause this will be the last time that I let you_   
>  **-Dashboard Confessional**


End file.
